“Just tell us the prognosis.”
Sam Bailey had been on an emotional roller coaster the past two years. And now, huddled in a small consultation room at Mercy Hospital in Stonerock, Tennessee, waiting to hear the diagnosis of his five-year-old daughter while sitting next to the wife who’d left him...well, Sam’s nerves were flat-out shot.
Dr. Benson displayed a glossy page with several images. “You can see on Marley’s CT scan that everything appears to be in good shape.”
Actually, Sam couldn’t see that because he was an architect, not a doctor.
“If things are good, then why did you bring us in here?” Tara asked. “I want to be with my daughter.”
His wife sat too close, smelled too good and was clutching the strap of her purse like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. If they were a normal couple, he’d reach out and take her white-knuckled hand to offer support. If they were a normal couple, they would’ve driven here together when the school called and said that Marley had hit her head when she fell from the playground equipment at a party on the last day of a summer school program.
If they were a normal couple, he wouldn’t have divorce papers waiting for his signature just below where his wife had already signed away their marriage.
“Marley is a lively little girl. I can tell from the time I spent with her doing my assessment. This fall could have been much worse.” Dr. Benson shifted his focus from Sam to Tara. “A head trauma can cause multiple issues and some aren’t seen by simply looking at the outward appearance.”
“Just say it,” Sam demanded. “What’s wrong with my daughter?”
Technically, she was his adopted daughter. When he’d met Tara, Marley had just turned two. He’d fallen in love with both raven-haired beauties and quickly made them his family. Marley was his in every single way that mattered. Even if Sam and Tara’s marriage was one signature away from the end, Marley was still his.
Sam couldn’t figure out what was actually wrong with her, though. He’d seen Marley, he’d talked to her. She showed him where her head hurt and the scrapes on her legs from the fall.
She’d been talking just fine and even asked when they could go home. So why the cryptic chat in private?
“I consulted with another colleague,” the doctor went on. “We both believe Marley has retrograde amnesia.”
The doctor’s words took a moment to sink in. Sam wasn’t sure what retrograde amnesia was, but he sure as hell knew the term amnesia. Marley had fallen off the top of a slide and hit her head on the pole holding up the ladder. Amnesia? Wasn’t that a term used in movies? This was real life—this was his daughter’s life.
“Amnesia?” Tara’s whispered question had an underlying hint of denial. “But I talked to her. She called me Mommy and talked like she always does. She didn’t seem confused.”
The doctor nodded. “She’s not right now. Retrograde amnesia is where the patient is missing a portion of time, so unless you asked her about something specific, she wouldn’t know she was missing the memory. RA patients have retained information in their minds. In Marley’s case she knows her parents, where she lives, her favorite toy. Those are all things that have been a constant in her life. But she’s not aware she’s finished kindergarten. She remembers being in preschool, which isn’t part of the camp she’s in today. She remembers the two of you marrying—or, at least, the pictures from that day and memories you’ve discussed with her since she was little. She’s chatted quite a bit with me, but from listening, she’s lost the last year of her life.”
An entire year? His daughter was only five years old and she’d lost twenty percent of her life? How did something as common as a fall on the playground result in his baby girl being robbed of her memories?
Sam struggled to wrap his thoughts, his emotions, around this moment. How the hell had they landed here? How had he and Tara gone from the happiest, most loving couple to being separated and now dealing with Marley having amnesia? Life